The Mentalist: Conjugal Visit
by Donnamour1969
Summary: A one-shot inspired by pictures/spoilers from 7x2. Jane takes Lisbon completely by surprise, in more ways than one. M-rated, for language and sexual situations, but not too explicit. Romance, Humor, and a little Drama.


A/N: I'm back, at least for a one-shot to dip my toe back in. Things are going better in my life, and I appreciate those who expressed their touching support. That is the main reason I have returned to my writing. That, and I was also inspired by recent pictures from the upcoming 7x2, so if you don't like spoilers, you might want to avoid this fic. Or not. I'm sure it won't be anything like the actual show, lol, but I can dream…This is rated M, but I think it's more M-_ish_, so don't be frightened away, thinking it's too explicit. Most of it is closer to a T rating, but I erred on the side of caution. I had planned to write a PWP, but I just couldn't do it.

**Conjugal Visit**

It had been child's play to find (with Wylie's unwitting help) and forge the necessary documents that would get Jane a few hours alone with Lisbon. True, she'd only been incarcerated for a week, working undercover to foil a grand theft auto ring from inside the prison, but frankly, Jane found their separation to be too painful to bear after having waited a dozen years to finally be with her.

It had been less than a month since he'd kissed her in the TSA detention office, and he could count on only one hand the times he'd been able to kiss her after that. There had been no opportunity to get her into bed (though not without trying and some pretty hard wishful thinking). She insisted that they not flaunt their relationship, that they keep things as aboveboard as possible.

Unfortunately, that had only fueled his desire to have her. _All_ of her.

But the moment they'd returned to Austin from Florida they'd hit the ground running, with one case after another, affording them little time to be together outside of work. When this undercover job came up, Lisbon had volunteered much more readily than Jane would have liked.

"Seriously?" he'd muttered, his eyes pleading with her as Abbot extended the job to Lisbon. _Didn't she even want to talk about this first? Run it by __**me **__maybe?_

But she was used to taking necessary risks on her job, was obviously excited to try something new, to get a chance to see law enforcement from the other side. This was also probably her way of telling him that no man would be able to put her in a box, Jane surmised, that no man could control her. Pike had made a fairly good attempt, but she'd extricated herself from that trap just in time, and she wasn't about to allow Jane to put her in another one.

Still, she had avoided his eyes as she'd given her consent to Abbot, giving Jane hope that perhaps she might miss him a little. Later, while she was taking her fake mug shot, Jane stared wistfully as she glared into the camera with her most menacing criminal expression, which Jane only found heartbreakingly adorable.

"Oh, stop," she'd said to him with a frustrated sigh, meeting his disheartened gaze at last.

"You've proven your point, Teresa," he'd said. "You don't have to do this."

"What point," had been her airy reply.

And that had been the end of any discussion about it, until he'd helped her on with the handcuffs in the back seat of the company SUV. Abbot had been standing there the entire time, waiting somewhat impatiently for them to say their goodbyes. Jane had risked her wrath for his unprofessional behavior by reaching up to touch her cheek.

"Be careful," he'd said, before he cracked a brave smile. "Don't drop the soap."

Her eyes softened at last as she allowed her expression to reflect his own sense of impending loss.

"I'll be fine. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, okay?"

She'd smiled fondly, and so had he (though he made no promises) and he'd mouthed _I love you_ so Abbot wouldn't hear.

"Me too," she'd whispered, her green eyes suspiciously misty.

And then, squeezing her hand after he engaged the cuffs, he'd reluctantly opened the door for her and helped her out of the vehicle. The prison guards awaited her, and Jane was denied any final words by Abbot's last minute instructions to his agent.

Jane had watched her go with a tight throat and an ache in his heart. From this point on, she was on her own, with no one but the warden knowing she was undercover FBI.

Not that she couldn't handle herself in prison, he knew. After all, Jane had been in the pokey a couple of times himself, and he'd survived to tell the tale, so he wasn't exactly afraid for her. Okay, he was terrified. Somehow, the idea of his beautiful Saint Teresa locked up with a bunch of violent, thieving, drugging women was too horrifying to contemplate, especially if they discovered she was an FBI agent.

He'd begged Abbot to get him in to see her, and was rewarded with one ten minute visit in which he couldn't even touch her, not with a glass partition separated them. The sight of her in orange prison garb had fueled his already carnal fantasies, but that had only made him even more determined to get what he wanted. Something had to be done to remedy this situation.

Jane began to form a plan.

A few days later, armed with the appropriate paperwork proclaiming his spousal relationship and the necessity of his conjugal visit, he waited for Lisbon in the Extended Family Visitation suite at the New Mexico Women's Correctional Facility.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"Lisbon, your husband's here," said the female guard assigned to her cellblock.

This announcement was met with catcalls, whistles and foul remarks up and down the block, and Lisbon had flushed angrily.

_Dammit Jane_. This was not part of her cover.

She jumped down from her top bunk and stood by the barred door just as it slid open. Her cellmate, a convicted prostitute, sent her off with a lascivious suggestion.

"Hey, you be sure to tell your old man if you ain't enough for him, I'd give him a taste for free!" she called to Lisbon, who was halfway to the stairs with her guard.

"What are the odds he hasn't eaten from that trough already, you skanky ho," said their neighbor to the west.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!"

And there followed a lively exchange of obscenity-laden insults Lisbon was only too happy to escape.

Lisbon's guard (whom everyone called Hatchet Mary behind her back, due to her long, unsmiling demeanor) didn't take the usual route to the common visitation room, but instead led her out of the main prison area to the what she figured was the office side of the facility.

"Where are we going?" Lisbon asked, thinking perhaps Abbot had put a wrench in her plans.

But the guard had only smirked mysteriously. And then Lisbon realized in embarrassment exactly what part of the prison they were headed to. Only a handful of states across the country still had a conjugal visitation program—now it was usually called an Extended Visitation Program, to include visits from _all_ immediate family members—and New Mexico just happened to be one of them.

_Dammit Jane_, she thought again, mortified.

"You have twelve hours, Lisbon," said the guard, unlocking the door. When the woman beheld the glorious beauty that was Patrick Jane, sitting casually with his tea on the couch in the spartanly-furnished apartment, she shot Lisbon a look of pure envy, then responded as all women did to Jane's miraculous smile—with a slightly dazed and helpless one of her own.

_Even Hatchet freakin' Mary_, thought Lisbon in annoyance.

"Take your time, you two," Mary amended kindly.

"Thank you, Officer," called Jane, his eyes twinkling at her. The woman blushed and locked the door behind her.

Lisbon's looked heavenward as she folded her arms across her chest defiantly.

"You could charm the birds from the goddamn trees."

Jane set down his teacup and rose to his feet to greet his "wife."

"Only one bird I'm interested in charming. How are you, my beautiful jailbird?"

She wasn't completely immune to that smile either, but she was also extremely pissed off. "What the hell, Jane," said Lisbon.

His smile didn't falter. He had fully expected this reaction. She hated when he interfered with any of her best-laid plans.

He walked gracefully the few feet to where she still stood before the locked door, and he caught the panic on her face the moment she realized they were confined together in what amounted to a love nest, that it was fully expected that they would be having sex in here. She felt her cheeks warm with a different kind of heat.

"Hello to you too, my dear," he said, leaning in to kiss her. She turned her face away rebelliously and his lips landed near her ear. But Jane was good at making lemons into lemonade, and he pulled her closer, nuzzling into her hair, feeling her tremble as his warm breath fanned her cheek.

"Jane," she breathed, her arms still crossed between them. "I think this counts as doing _something stupid_…"

His hands gripped her upper arms, and as she felt his tongue lightly swipe across her earlobe, she was glad for the support, given her unsteady legs.

"Kissing you…or the whole _conjugal visit_ thing?" The term sounded much less vulgar when he said it. As a matter of fact, it made her pulse quicken.

"You know what I mean." Valiantly, she stood as stiffly as she could against his sensual onslaught, and he sighed and stepped back to look into her face.

"I missed you," he said simply, and she knew it was the complete truth. Her expression softened.

"I…I missed you too. But I'm…on a case…"

"Yes, I know," he said, and his hands lovingly caressed her bare forearms, as if coaxing them to loosen up.

"How in the world did you arrange this? I'm sure Abbot wouldn't have approved."

He shrugged. "It's probably better you don't know. As for Abbot, what the boss man doesn't know…"

"Well, you'd better hope he doesn't find out."

"Meh. I can handle Dennis."

"Jane—"

"With you gone, I was unable to focus on anything, I'm afraid, which would make me pretty worthless around the FBI right now. You know how I can be when I slip into obsession mode."

Did she ever.

"So this ruse of being my husband was for the good of the FBI then?"

He grinned. "I knew you'd understand."

She shook her head, wondering why he could still surprise her with the extent of his audacity.

It was then that she saw the raw vulnerability in his eyes. He swallowed, summoning his courage.

"The truth is, Teresa…I couldn't get the taste of your lips off my mind…the smoothness of your skin beneath my hands…the warmth of your body when I held you." He punctuated each phrase with a soft kiss, with a delicate touch, and Lisbon felt the unmistakable flare of her own desire.

Patrick Jane in heartfelt confession mode was very hard to resist, which was why she'd gotten off that plane in Florida weeks before.

"Jane," she began.

But whatever she had been about to say was cut off when she felt his soft lips pressed to hers.

She had missed him too, thought Lisbon, so it was completely understandable that she would disentangle her arms and drape them around his shoulders, would draw him closer until she was sure he could feel her heart pounding against her chest, would slide her fingers into the warmth of his nape.

It didn't take much finessing for her to open her mouth to him, allowing his tongue to slip inside and caress hers thoroughly, relentlessly, until he'd elicited a low moan from her throat.

He pulled away for air then, his whole body shaking, his voice gone raspy with need.

"I've put my life on hold for a dozen years, and now that I am finally ready to start over, you leave. Well, I'm tired of waiting. I want you. I'm fairly certain you want me. And I know we're both frightened of what that means. I'm sure you still have some trust issues with me, but I'd like the chance to try to overcome that, to prove to you that I'm not going anywhere. This is what I want for my life now. _You _are what I want."

Lisbon felt tears pricking her eyes. Of course he would have figured out why she'd avoided being alone with him, that she'd used work as an excuse, took this dangerous case in a prison rather than the even scarier prospect of giving herself to this man, known for his deceptions and lies and unexpected disappearances.

She knew in her heart she was only putting off the inevitable, that she couldn't run—didn't _want_ to run—from him much longer. Still, something within her, a last bastion of self-preservation perhaps, made her point out one more obstacle.

"But Jane…in a _prison_? With guards just outside the door? You don't find that a little creepy?"

"What better way to insure neither of us can run from this?" There he was, reading her mind again. His smile though was tender, self-deprecating.

He pulled her into his arms, his chin resting on her dark head. He began to speak urgently, persuasively.

"Quite honestly, when you're in the room with me, I can't think of anyone else anyway. And this guarantees us twelve uninterrupted hours, Lisbon. Think of it: no phone calls from Abbot or Cho, no dead bodies. Hell, this is more like a fantasy suite than a prison."

He felt her small body shake lightly with laughter. He had a point, and they both knew it. Jane also knew he had won.

"Besides," he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the kitchenette. "I brought dinner."

There was takeout from a local Italian place, and Lisbon's eyes lit up. A week of prison food hadn't been the most fun, and her stomach leapt in anticipation.

He poured her a glass of sparkling grape juice.

"Sorry—against prison regulations to bring in alcohol."

He pulled out her chair at the small dining table, and she sat down gratefully, taking a long draught of the sweet juice. He opened the oven, and, with a flourish, set before her a plate of eggplant parmesan with a side of Fettuccine Alfredo and breadsticks. From the refrigerator, he brought out a Caesar salad.

"Oh, my God," she said, inhaling the heavenly garlic fragrance of her meal. "You could have just started with the food."

Jane chuckled, thoroughly enjoying watching her heartily dig into the takeout. "I brought Italian, Lisbon, now will you sleep with me?"

She closed her eyes in bliss. "Exactly," she said over a mouthful of pasta.

Jane barely tasted his own food, a different kind of hunger occupying his senses. His eyes feasted on her mouth as she ate, his heart lurching every time her pink tongue danced over her lips. He refilled her glass, wishing it _were_ alcohol; he could use a double shot of courage about now. Ironic that _she_ was the one seducing him over a meal, and she wasn't even trying.

He updated her on what was going on with the rest of the team, their progress with the case on the outside. It wasn't exactly romantic dinner conversation, but he knew that work was what really turned Lisbon on. At least, _outside_ of the bedroom. By the time the night was over, he vowed he would know _all _of her on switches, and he would have methodically flipped every one. The very thought of it made him shift uncomfortably in his chair.

He'd made her good coffee to have with her slice of chocolate torte. She looked at the cake suspiciously.

"There's not a file in here, is there?"

He grinned. "I wish I'd thought of that."

"I broke _into_ this prison, remember?"

He frowned. "I hadn't forgotten, believe me. And if I'd had anything to say about it…"

"Well, now you know how I felt the times _you_ got yourself locked in jail on purpose."

"Touché, my dear, touché. Now eat your cake."

She grinned, happily picking up her fork.

As punishment (or so it seemed), she made him endure the torture of the moans of delight she made as the rich cake melted in her mouth.

"Have a bite," she said, holding out a forkful of chocolate. He leaned over the table, meeting her eyes as he wrapped his mouth around the fork and gently pulled with his teeth. Her eyes darkened in response. He sat back in his chair, chewing and watching Lisbon as she finished making love to that damn cake. When she licked her fork after her last bite, the anticipation had become nearly unbearable.

"Come on," he said hoarsely, pulling her roughly to her feet.

Neither of them was hesitating now.

She didn't even notice the bland beige of the bedroom—carpet, comforter, curtains—because the blue green of his eyes was all the color she could see. His hands, cool with nerves, made her shiver when he slipped them beneath her orange prison shirt. She had a brief moment of regret that she wasn't clad in something more beautiful for him to unwrap, but when he pulled the shirt over her head she realized that they were well past hiding behind such facades.

He stared at her in the dim light of the bedside lamp, one fingertip resting reverently between her breasts, just below the golden cross she always wore. She knew a last moment of shyness as he perused her simple prison issue bra, but when he looked at her, his eyes brimming with masculine appreciation, her confidence returned, and she took his hands in hers, placing them directly on her small breasts.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered in awe, right before he found her lips again, and she gasped into his mouth when his thumbs moved to roll her peaked nipples through the practical cotton. Soon he was kissing his way past her delicate collarbones to her warm cleavage, inhaling the simple scent of deodorant soap and aroused woman. His mouth soon replaced his hands, wetting the fabric with his tongue and teeth as he tugged at the tight little buds. She groaned, her hands in his hair now, wondering how she was still standing.

And suddenly, she wasn't.

In a gesture that with any other man might have appeared too staged, Jane picked her up effortlessly in his arms and carried her the remaining few feet to the bed. Placing one knee on the firm mattress, he laid her gently on her back, passion brimming in his eyes, and, she noticed with excitement, in the crotch of his trousers. He kissed her again, and stood while she watched through sultry eyes as he impatiently shrugged off his suit jacket. It fell unceremoniously to the floor.

She almost laughed at the efficiency with which he unbuttoned each cuff of his island print shirt, then two more at his chest, before pulling the half-buttoned garment over his head, toeing off his scuffed brown shoes at the same time. She liked to see _him _impatient for a change; his usual self-control could be so infuriating sometimes.

Lisbon was surprised to note how his bare torso was much firmer than when last she'd seen it, when he'd lain unconscious on the bank of a California pond; South America really had agreed with him. She couldn't help staring at the smooth gold of his skin, at the twin flat circles surrounding his dark masculine nipples. Soon she would fasten her lips there, she thought hazily, return the exquisite torture he'd given her.

Any remaining coherency faded away as he directed his attention wholly back on her. He began by pulling off her prison slip-on clogs, his hands untying the simple bow that held up her baggy orange pants. He pulled them down, revealing embarrassing high-waisted granny panties. He smiled a little and she flushed even more.

He looked up at her face, her hair having fallen in messy strands from its serviceable top knot. To him, she was the sexiest woman he had ever seen.

"I find your prison lingerie beguiling, Teresa. Stop worrying about it."

To cover her awkwardness, she sat up, scooting to the end of the bed. Her hands went to the belt of his trousers, and she met his eyes.

"Well then, since I showed you mine…"

She was as efficient as he was, Jane found, watching helplessly as she unbuckled his belt, then set to work on the button and zipper of his trousers. She leaned forward and kissed his lightly furred stomach just above the waistband of his boxers, and he wondered if he'd be able to handle anything more erotic than this. Her hair was unbearably soft against his skin, and he felt his erection jump at her nearness. Lisbon noticed it too and chuckled at her newfound control.

Her hands slipped inside his loosened pants, and then mischievously inside his boxer shorts. He wanted to cry at the wondrous feel of her small fingers caressing his bare buttocks, but when she slid his trousers and boxers off, both at once, leaving her mouth level with his bobbing erection, he felt he might expire on the spot.

"Lisbon," he said, her name torn from a dry throat.

"Hmm?" she hummed with mock innocence, looking up into his eyes while she drew his sex into her hot mouth.

"Holy fuck," he gasped. And her eyes sparkled with amusement at his uncharacteristic profanity.

She worked him with her strong hands and soft tongue until he was on the verge of exploding. "Mercy," he cried. "Lisbon…stop…please."

With one last caress, she released him, sitting back on her elbows with a satisfied grin. Jane took that as a personal challenge. He would give her something to _really_ smile about.

He stepped out of the clothes that had fallen around his ankles, and before she knew what was happening, he had divested her of the rest of hers, his face buried in the apex of her thighs.

It was her turn to swear.

That tongue of his, so adept at the art of fast-talking and duplicity, was no less talented when it came to bringing her to the verge of sensual madness. It lapped and circled, dipped inside of her and suckled until she was reduced to inarticulate moans and cries. When he inserted his fingers into the mix, she tumbled over the edge and yelled so loudly it took them both by surprise.

He crawled on top of her at once, his hand briefly covering her mouth as he chuckled softly with delight.

"Shhh…" he cautioned, removing his hand and kissing her tenderly on the lips.

He felt her breasts rising and falling against his chest, and he became aware of the incredibly surreal feeling of Teresa Lisbon, completely naked beneath him. He found it was even better than any dream he had ever devised in his considerable imagination.

He was still hard against her stomach, still wanting her with an almost painful desire. But when they joined their bodies at last, he wanted her to be right there with him.

Lisbon slowly became aware of her surroundings again, falling back into reality from a world of pure, intense feeling. She looked placidly into Jane's eyes, reached up to touch his hair, her smile filled with wonder.

"What are you waiting for?" she whispered huskily. His heart skipped a beat.

"Nothing…nothing ever again," he said, reaching down to position himself at her slick entrance.

He slid easily inside, gritting his teeth against the extreme pleasure of it. She bent her knees, allowing him to go deeper still, and he fumbled to entwine his fingers with hers, as if preparing her to hang on tightly for what lay ahead. Without saying a word, he willed her to meet his eyes, just as he began to move within her.

They moaned together in shared exaltation.

He set a rhythm borne of transcendent happiness and helpless desperation. Once within her at last, he could no longer reign in his desires, and for the first time in over a decade, he completely let himself go. Lisbon reveled in his release, could actually feel him freeing himself from all that had imprisoned him in the past. Ironic, that a locked door in a prison could be what set him free at last—what set them both free.

Later, as she curled around him beneath the comforter, she toyed with whether she had the courage to ask him about his apparent catharsis. As usual, he beat her to the punch.

"You've changed me forever, you know," he said conversationally, his fingers drawing idle circles on her naked back. "I won't be able to lie to you anymore, and I've got nothing else to hold back..."

She smiled against his chest, but then she frowned when he amended his statement.

"Except one thing."

She could feel his heart pick up speed beneath her ear, and she braced herself for the worst.

He kissed her hair, feeling her sudden tension. "Relax…it's nothing terrible, I promise. It's about…Angela."

He never spoke of her by name, had only referred to her as his wife on the rare occasion she even came up. And since Red John's death, he hadn't mentioned her at all. She was so touched she couldn't speak, could only nod against him.

"It was never this good with her," he continued. "I mean, we loved each other, and she knew me almost as well as you do. But we fought a lot. About my work, about how to raise Charlotte. I resented her for making us leave the carnie life that I had loved, though now of course, I know that would have been no life for Charlotte. So it was a very volatile relationship to say the least. When she was murdered, my guilt for the way I treated her combined with my guilt for causing her death, and I think that over the years I began to deify her in my mind, as if that would make up for my own shortcomings. I owed it to her to remember only what was good and beautiful about her, to put her on the pedestal she deserved. But she wasn't perfect, and neither was our marriage—far from it, in fact. Admitting that to myself has been part of the process of completely letting her go."

He turned on his side to face her, one hand reaching out to trace her dimple.

"But, you, my love, I have always seen for who you really are. You are beautiful of course, but even more so inside." His hand dropped to tap the creamy skin over her heart for emphasis. "Like Angela, you are way too good for me, and yes we have our occasional spats, but you are infinitely more forgiving than Angela ever was. I wonder now whether she would have stood by me all these years like you have done. I'm not so sure she would have…"

"How could she not?" asked Lisbon in disbelief, her eyes watering as the weight of his words settled over her. "True, you are an impossible man to love, but you are equally impossible to get over. Believe me, I've tried."

His eyebrows rose in mock offense. "You have?"

She smiled, leaning closer to kiss his full lips. "Dear Lord, you can't even begin to know how hard."

"As long as you're not trying now…"

"Nope," she said. "I'm all in. Even though you are testing me once again by even being here with me. I don't want to know all the laws you must have broken."

He smirked at her apparent hypocrisy. "I thought we were finished with secrets."

She shook her head, closing her eyes as if praying for strength. "There's got to be a happy medium somewhere, I suppose. Maybe we should bring back that plausible deniability thing I used to hate so much."

Jane grinned, loving her so much he felt his heart might burst with it.

"There's always the Need-to-Know Basis rule…"he countered mischievously.

She groaned in pretend frustration. "Please, no."

He laughed, a carefree, happy sound she had rarely heard from him, and then he rolled her over onto her back, gleefully covering her face and neck with heated kisses.

Lisbon was still feeling overwhelmed at their recent shared intimacies, both physical and emotional. She couldn't believe he had spoken so openly about his wife. It was humbling, and it seemed just as miraculous to her as their intense lovemaking had been. He must truly feel free of his past to bring up a topic she had long thought taboo, but that was such a big part of who he was.

"Hey," she said, her hands staying his movements. She brought his attention back to her glistening green gaze. "Thank you for sharing that with me, about Angela. I would love to hear more about her, and your daughter, if you feel comfortable talking about them. That is definitely a part of your life that is still a mystery to me. I want to know everything about you, like you seem to know everything about me."

"Aw, Lisbon," he said gently. "You are very much mistaken. True, your face is usually an open book, but if you recall, I was pretty blind to your desires when it came to Marcus Pike, wasn't I?"

"A temporary lapse, surely," she said, wincing a bit at the mention of her former fiancé.

"I can only hope, my love. Now, can we please stop all this talking for awhile? We have less than ten hours until you have to go back to your cell."

"Is this the Lying By Omission method now?" she asked suspiciously. But Jane's attentions were elsewhere.

When he lowered his head to find her breast once more, she sighed into the blissful sensation of his heated mouth upon her skin. "Aw, it's the Distract and Evade method. That's funny…I find I don't mind this one so much…"

He took a break between breasts, resting his prickly chin in her cleavage. "Lisbon, turn off your thoughts and let's get back to conjugating." He picked up where he'd left off, his lips fastening upon her nipple.

"I—ahhh—I don't think—ohhh—that's a correct form—mmm—of _conjugal_."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her body. He began a more southerly route.

"Of course it is," he said to her stomach. "I want _to make love _to Lisbon…I _am making_ love to Lisbon…I _made_ _love _to Lisbon earlier…I _have made love_ to Lisbon twice now…I _have been making love _to Lisbon in my dreams for years…"

"Okay," she replied, her voice hitching as he inserted his tongue into her navel. His hands moved lower to massage the sensitive skin between her thighs. "Conjugate away…"

The End

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little fantasy piece. I did some minor research on modern conjugal visits, but I shall reserve my poetic license. I hope to have another story for you soon, but I'm not going to commit myself just yet. The premier is coming in two weeks (!), so I'm sure I'll find more inspiration soon. Thanks again for your support. It's good to be back ;).**


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